Mad Man, Gullible Girl
by Laughing Jay
Summary: The girl in red had grown to a woman in black. Still guilty about leaving her companion alone in the "Fabricated World", dear Ib spends her days at the gallery, still mourning over the "Forgotten Portrait." but things suddenly change when the painting of a forgotten man is suddenly a window to a fabricated world, and the man who had taken her back is no longer a "friend"...
1. Chapter 1: Pity Her

**Hey guys! This is my second fan fiction and I'm really excited for this. It's starts off a bit slow and depressing, but no worries, it will get interesting...**

**Leave a favorite and review! Enjoy~**

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><p>They notice her. They hear, her quiet sobs and soft hiccups as she catches her breath within her never ending river, yet no one admits it. Visitors of the gallery come and go, not daring to ask her why she mourns so. So there she sits, the girl in red and white. There she cries, under the golden frames and melancholy colors of a forgotten man. She holds a scarlet rose, so perfect, so beautiful you wouldn't believe it was real.<p>

"She's so strange!" They say.

"Who is that girl?" They question.

"Why that painting?" They wonder.

Yet they never ask, they only walk along, losing themselves in the world of Guertena while the small girl glides across the back of their minds.

A forgotten girl obsessed with a "Forgotten Portrait." Who was he? The man with lavender locks and a jacket of the darkest navy hue. Who was the mysterious man who held a blue rose the color of royals and as perfect as the scarlet flower her mourner had held close forevermore. He wore a face of sorrow, longing. Pleading to be set free in the eyes of the girl who wallowed in self pity and agony. Begging to be released from the Fabricated World to find someone. They'll never know of who, they'll never know why, and they certainly won't know the window through the paintings of this gallery.

As the girl comes everyday and leaves every night, a part of her will always be left with that ocean blue painting of hers. She was always the first one here and the last one gone. The girl named Ib, who always walks away with damp rosy eyes, and three parting words:

"I'm sorry, Garry."


	2. Chapter 2: Come, Ib

She was older now. She had grown out of the lively colors worn by the internally dead girl. She now wore the color of the dark cloud that hung over her heavy heart. A dark grey turtle neck had wrapped around tightly against her torso, accompanied by black leggings and black velvet boots. She clung onto a long since dead flower, barely recognizable as a rose in it's withered and deteriorating state. Yeas had passed yet she refused to forget. How could she let the man who had saved her slip into faded memory? How could she move on, telling herself the world she had been miserably trapped in with a forgotten man was all a dream, a silly outcome of a nine year old's imagination?

No, she could only wish. Only smile at the slight comfort as she fantasizes about enjoying a spring day in a long ago mentioned cafe as she enjoyed macaroons and the bitter taste of lemon candies. Only bring herself to think of anything else but the one regret she held so unhealthily close to her heart, as she imagined the closeness to a very odd man she had only met within a fabricated world. She could only want a second chance. To save his sapphire rose and in return rescue her companion from all those years ago.

So now she waits, under the woven strands of canvas paper, painting the window of a forgotten man clutching his fabricated rose in eternal slumber. Dusk had fallen, and soon she would depart with a final goodbye until the break of sunlight the next day. She often wondered about how time passes on, how the world continues to move forward, hopelessly unaware of the story of Garry, and his brave sacrifice to save a rose. The world continues to turn, people continue to go forth and move on. After all, why would anyone care for something forgotten?

With dull eyes, she gazed into a painting that drove her mad, the only work of art that mattered in the gallery. It shattered her mind, tore her heart to small strips of broken promises and hope, and yet it also gave her that ounce of comfort and relief that balanced harmoniously with her pain. She always took comfort in the thought that she hadn't gone mad, that the painting that bore into her soul held a man who did indeed exist. Ib watched it, smiling with tired eyes, whispering a final goodbye before she stood, raising herself to her weak legs.

"Goodbye, Ib." It cooed, softly but surely.

Her knees gave out, shaking in an unstable jumble as she reached out, desperately reaching out for the wall to balance herself on. The lights flickered as she caught herself against the rough canvas before her. Regaining her composure, she stood, resting against her hero's tomb. She heard it. It was clear as rough, as if he had just awoken, but it was there. She was sure of it. Looking around the gallery was empty. Her stomach dropped as a sudden feeling of dread over came her. The gallery must have closed, which meant she was alone. Her heart beat with a strong pulse, pounding in her head steadily. Something was very wrong. It seemed all too familiar. She took slow steps down below to the lobby, finding no one in sight and a dark night outside the buildings windows. Her heart continued to beat.. Only, she could have sworn it started to sound like the soft thumping of footsteps. She tried at the door, pulling desperately at the handle only to find the doors not only firmly shut, but it seemed affixed to the wall, as if it was only for show, decoration. The thumping got louder, beads of sweat started to form across her soft pale skin, regretting her choice of wear today. Running back up the steps she ventured a bit further into the gallery, finding new exhibits and paintings that she had never known existed. The thumping formed into rather loud foot steps, following her wherever she went. Finally, stepping before the massive painting of a fabricated world, she noticed small lettering in a blue opaque liquid. It had been traced on the wall as if by the finger of a child, sending chills up her spine as she read the cold words.

_ "Come, Ib."_


	3. Chapter 3: Footsteps

She wasn't in denial, she knew that this was real, that the door way to her world would soon open and she would once more face the dangers and monsters of the fabricated world. Even then, all she could feel was a sense of determination, almost anxiety. She ran down the hallway towards the staircase leading down to the entrance, "abyss of the deep" and the long fall to the first room. Where her search would begin. Running along on her fragile legs, weak from lack of any exercise, she stepped on something, crunching with a squish. She slid across the cool white tile from her sudden stop, and looked down. A single blue petal was flattened on the ground, a pool formed with the petals dark red blood. She kneeled down, her stomach dropping as she looked to the blood. There was only one blue rose that she had ever known and it was His. Connecting the two she came to the conclusion that the dark liquid below her gaze was none other than her waiting companion's. Fear struck through her as she stood with jumbling nerves and weak knees, a small whisper tickled her senses. The smell of smoke was lingering in the air along with the sickening smell of wet paint. Her head turned towards the painting she stood before for years, more petals surrounded it.

"This way." The whispering repeated, the voices fumbling over each other, making a very jumbled line of words, only a single voice was clear enough to make out the words. A small smile crept across her face as she slowly walked towards Him, raising her arm slowly as the space between the desperate girl and the lavender man woven into canvas closed.

"Garry..." She called softly, begging for a reply. Her soft hand made contact with the rough canvas. It had a different feel to it, as if the surface was covered with a thin layer of liquid. She aroma of wet paint was very strong, nearly knocking her over upon reaching Him. Unexpectedly, the painting was frozen, nothing changed, no portal to take her back to her second chance, the man inside never replied or looked at her. A small sliver of hope falling from her, she clenched her teeth and turned, sprinting down the hall and to the steps.

"Garry!" She pleaded. "Garry where are you?"

Nearly tripping over her feet, she ran down the white stairs, her boots below her were a blur as her speed picked up from the sudden adrenaline. She turned the corner to the large room containing the sculpture of the large beast in his never ending abyss. The footsteps fell silent, though the place remained dark. Nothing moved, it seemed as if time itself froze. The sculpture remained still, no indication of movement whatsoever. Tears burned in Ib's eyes as it seemed her inner rose containing her hope and spark of life began to wilt. She felt dread overcome her, refusing to believe that this was only a hallucination, a dream. Running back up the steps she sprinted down the hall to the large muro she had escaped through her first time coming through. The words under the painting were smeared and incoherent. She let out a small shout in frustration, shaking in fury as her heart slowly shattered all over again. She couldn't stand it, it was too much to take. In a matter of minutes she was healed, she was ready to plunge into that godforsaken world and get out with the man she had longed to rescue. Instead she now dropped to her knees and pounded at the cool tile below her, begging to the heavens to let her in. What did it want? Why wouldn't it open for her? Was it because it's guardian was now burned to ashes and unable to take in the one who actually wanted to join her in the haunting gallery of Guertena? Hot streams spilled over her eyelids, showing no sign of stopping anytime soon. It couldn't be the end, it was not supposed to end like this.

No words came from her, only tears as she trudged back to her spot below Him. Her feet seemed to be chained to concrete blocks as she them dragged along. Her back fell to him, looking to him with shining eyes, a river flowing below them. She sniveled, sounds all too familiar and repetitive. She traced a hand down the canvas and leaned her head against the painting of a sleeping Garry.

"I am so sorry... I don't know what to do Garry! I don't know how to save you, I don't know how to get in, I just... I'm so lost and afraid... I can't go.. I can't leave you! It's my fault you're here... If I hadn't lost my dumb rose you would... You would be here Garry. We would be eating macaroons everyday and enjoying your strange lemon candies..." Her voice softened, less shaking and fearful and more dreamy, lost in her uplifting thoughts. She laughed suddenly. It had been years since she even held a smile to her face, and many years longer since the sound of a sweet laughter escaped her lips. It bounced off the walls, filling the entire gallery with the sweet ringing of her forgotten laughter, the sound foreign even to her. Memories flooded her all at once, overwhelming her emotions. She thought of those fluffy lavender locks with the vine like dark strands of violet patched atop his hair. His eyes, hidden underneath his wall of hair. They reminded her of the darkest tulips that grew in her backyard. His odd coat, torn and weirdly designed, and the color of a a tree's leaves below a midnight sky. She remembered everything about him. She thought of his scent. It was old, a small hint of cigaret smoke and lemons.

It was there with her. The strong smell of Garry, mixed with dust, paint, smoke, and roses. Through all the layers of scents swirling in the air, she sensed it.

"Garry..." She started. There was a shuffle nearby, almost sounding as if it were the painting she rested on. "I miss you."

Before she realized she was falling in, two strong arms wrapped around her shoulders firmly. Blue petals fell before her and vines fell to the floor beside her feet as a breath of warm air spread over her head like wildfire. It was gasping, as if it was his first breath in years, holding it in until this moment. A chill crawled up her spine as she slowly took it what was happening. She was being pulled back as a messy mop of lavender hair fell in front if her eyes. Warm, gentle lips brushed her forehead as the scent of smoke and lemons curled over her nose. Rising a over her, the lips parted to reply five words that would send the world into a blur to the girl below the waking painting.

"I missed you too, Ib." Stated the sweet voice of her hero.


	4. Chapter 4: Fish Food

**Alright next chapter for sure is gonna get a bit more exciting.. And sorry for the wait! I'm working on other stories and I kinda got side tracked ~ anyways, new chapter yay!**

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><p>She was falling now.<p>

Very slowly she descended, through the wall of liquid around her and the many layers under. She drifted, frozen and silent, knowing where she was and where she was headed. Garry was nowhere in sight, and the last thing Ib had remembered was the strong hold of His arms releasing her.

No... Not releasing.. He was fading. Liquefying behind her as they fell, before she penetrated the still skin of water and into the all too familiar cloud of blue that had flooded her vision upon falling into the abyss. A distant screech from a mysterious creature from the deep waters below vibrated the water around her, and struck a rod of fear through Ib as she realized she was in it's territory, and she was falling towards it.

The sea around her was cold and thick, like paint. It clung to her clothes uncomfortably, filling every fold and most likely staining her garments. It went on around her for what seemed like miles in every direction. Ib's breath was held tightly within her lungs, fearing she wouldn't hit the bottom before she gave out the little air she had and drowned. Fish food. She turned her head down to search for any hint of the gallery floors. All there was to be seen below her were black waters and the emptiness beyond. Her lungs burned with the need for relief, to breathe and exhale, inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale and...

A small cloud of thick, nearly opaque bubbles floated upwards before Ib's closing eyes. The muffled rumbling of trapped air drummed in her ears. The only hope for survival was escaping her, Speeding past her lips and into the deep waters as her lungs let go of the last of her precious oxygen. As her breath was released, Ib's stomach dropped as she realized she would soon take in a mouthful of water when the last of her air left and slowly, painfully drown within the "Abyss of the Deep." Her eyes were shut tightly, seeing speckles of light and stars as she seemingly deflated. Panic took her thoughts, and her breath slowed as the last of her oxygen floated away, and on instinct she inhaled.

Thick, cold water entered her. Past her lips, into her throat, and filling her lungs. The burning within her chest stopped as cool liquid filled the space. Ib thrashed, clawing her arms and hands through the water in attempt to move faster. It slowly filled her as she attempted to cough it out and hold what ever air she had inside her and somehow make it to the bottom. Realization hit her like a hammer though as her legs stopped kicking and her arms froze, as if they had a mind of their own. Something was very wrong... In a good way.

She could breathe, as if the water soon faded within her and it seemed like she had never inhaled such a large quantity of liquid at all. Ib's round eyes shot open, adjusting to the dim light and feeling of empty liquid around her, taking her down. It was a terrifying feeling, and Ib found herself shaking in fear as a wave of frustration and anxiety flooded over her every time she would inhale to take a deep breath of oxygen rich paint water. It filled her then faded, causing her to believe she would drown even when she had known it would eventually leave again.

There was another screech, much closer now. Her head whipped around frantically in search for the source of the eerie wail and slowly, her kicks started up again. She swung her legs in attempt to swim through the thick paint. They felt as if they were tied to a weight though, for no matter how hard she kicked and thrashed and pushed, it was to no avail. She fell farther into the dark waters, the light above her soon fading as the black slowly consumed her. There was yet another piercing scream from the creature , seeming as if it originated from only a few meters away. It was then that Ib whipped her head to the right, catching a glimpse of the approaching beast. A faint aura of fluorescent cyan had outlined it's dark shade of taupe scales around it. It's jaws were extended upwards to their full length, rows of rotted and dangerously sharp teeth outlined them in perfect array. Panic overcame Ib's mind as it approached with frightening speed. It's mouth opened even wider, revealing the abyss within itself. Her legs kicked once more, downwards and to the right, in every direction away from the creature. The liquid's density only seemed to increase around her, slowing her movements to a halt as she turned back to greet large tusks, blank and unmoving eyes, scales the size of her hand, and the black waters beyond the fish's mouth as it closed around her. Her head spun back, now inside the beast as her only way out again would be through it's closing jaws. She reached desperately, finding more comfort in the dimming light than the sudden darkness here inside of the Creature of the Abyss. With a quick snap and a sickening crack of clashing teeth, the world around Ib was black once more.

When she had regained her senses, she was in a sort of daze. Her eyes remained heavy and closed, yet she could use every other sense. She lay on her side. Whether she was on the floor or a sort of table she couldn't tell. It was cold and hard, sending a chill through her as she rolled over and pressed the back of her head to it. The place she had woken in smelled of paint and dust, like an art gallery. All was still, there was no detection of any life near her. All was silent, eerily silent. She swore she could hear her blood flow within her veins, fast and constant. She pressed her palm to the surface beneath her and propped herself up to her knees. Opening her eyes slowly, all that was to be seen was blue. Was she still in the abyss? Did she reach the bottom? She could breath without consuming large amounts of water, so she assumed she was now in the gallery. Her head tilted upwards, and her eyes adjusted to the world around her. There were a few paintings on the wall, some very familiar, some completely new. Blinking twice, she pushed her weight up with her weak arms and stood. Her knees shook terribly, as if she just went for a two mile bike ride. A wall beside her was used to hold herself before she got control of her strength again. She didn't know what was happening, it felt like she was old and feeble, like an old woman. Her arm gave out beneath her and she slammed into the wall with a dry crunch emanating from her pouch. And with it, pain, much worse than it should have been with such a short range fall, rocketed through her body. Every nerve, every cell within her seemed to pinch as she fell to the floor with a cry. She was paralyzed as the pain subsided, fading away. When she had found the urge to move again she lifted her pouch, searching inside for the source of the...

Dark red petal flakes littered the inside of her pouch. It almost felt dirt as she rummaged around in search for the rose. Her shriveling, dying rose. She had always kept it on her in hopes that it would be her key back to the "Fabricated World". She lifted it out of her black pouch, holding it gently between her fingers and twirling it as flakes floated to the floor beneath her rather gracefully. Half of the rose was gone, most of it's remains scattered within her pouch, while the other half remained dry and deteriorating. She was surprised a rose would even last all these years without water. I suppose it was the fact that it was no ordinary rose that kept it preserved so well. Holding her rose, careful not to bring any more harm to it, she lifted herself off the ground.

'WATER! I need water!' She had realized. If memory serves her right, there should be vases containing a sort of healing water within this gallery, a lot of them too. It was her only hope for survival, and with this withered rose, the chances looked bleak. Looking around, she took note of her surroundings. She was in a room the shade of a vibrant green. It stretched to a far wall on either side, and it was rather narrow, like a hallway. The tiles and walls looked new, as if they were recently installed and painted. The light above them was covered in a round cone like shade, covered in a transparent green sheet of plastic, and hanging from short cables. All was silent except for the soft patters of her footsteps on the cool tile as she decided to walk towards the right wall, hoping there would be something of use there.

The wall, upon closer inspection, was smooth, cold and overall.. Normal. There wasn't anything there, no hidden passage, no oddly colored section of the paint on it, it was just a wall. Ib was very confused now, what was she to do? There were no doors, no windows, no exits! She began to panic, very afraid that she would be trapped, starve to death, and left without a single person wondering where she could have gone, and even if they did, there would be no hope of finding her.

'What do I do!?' She thought frantically. She ran to the other side of the hallway, finding no exit there or any sign of one either. 'Please no.. Not when I'm so close!' She knocked on the walls, hoping she would hear a hollow echo on the other side. She took down paintings, examining each and every inch of the paintings frame and the wall that held it. Finally, she had the thought to look down. The tile. She hunched over and frantically moved about, watching, observing, hoping one would be appear to be loose and reveal a button or escape shoot.

Finally, the far end of the left wall in the lower corner, she found it: The loose floor piece. It had a small crack surrounding the cement that held it together, hardly noticeable. She bent down, now shaking with a sheen of sweat covering her. Using her nails, she insert them as far as she could in between the tile and pulled up. The piece wobbled a bit before separating from the ground below it and revealing a small compartment. Ib placed the tile next to her before looking back to the small box underneath the floor. A single item was placed in there, perfectly in the center. It's rim was red and the glass curving down to it's base was a light pink. The vase seemed new, not a speck of dust or dirt in it. Ib feared moving the vase would trigger an alarm or trap of some sort, so she left it in place. But she was rather uneasy about the liquid inside. Instead of a clear, slightly glowing healing water, it contained a dark liquid that smelled thick and metallic, like blood. She held tightly to her rose, bringing it forward and hovering it over the edge. With only a few dry and withering petals left, Ib hoped that this wasn't a trap, a cruel joke. The smell of blood seemed to cloud around her, getting stronger as it mixed with the smell of sweat and dust. Shutting her eyes, she held her breath as in one quick motion, her fingers parted, and the rose fell into the "water" with a quick drop.

There was an unlocking sound.


End file.
